


Together

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: There's no me without you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my christmas-gift for my friend. but i like it enough to share. I've written enough of fics of SO waking up their babe that i should make a series lmao

The place between sleep and awakening is a dusty one, from there spawn the fuzziest dreams that leave a mouth sticky and mind reeling. It’s where Keith usually drifts during early morning hours, his hands reaching for Shiro’s, Shiro’s soft murmured words completely inaudible to Keith’s sleepy ears. Shiro’s warmth vanishes and Keith drifts again and again and again, only to drift back towards the bright and crisp winter sun and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. 

Keith is aware of how he looks, hair a too long mess that is often likened to a bird’s nest- Lance’s words, not his- and black bags under his eyes from too many nights spent being an idiot with his friends and with various gaming consoles. He smacks his mouth, sits up from the bed and looks around. A tentative sniff at the air tells him enough of his boyfriend’s whereabouts so Keith leaves him be and instead makes his way to the bathroom.

He’s shifted awake by a pair of arms around his waist and lips on his neck.

“You’re sleeping while standing, you dork,” Shiro huffs, presses another kiss to the back of Keith’s head. Keith promptly chokes on his toothbrush and spends a good amount of time spitting in the sink, Shiro’s warm hand on his neck. 

“I woke up at the same time as you, you freak,” Keith mutters but lets himself be turned around, lets himself smile when he’s enveloped into a warm embrace, Shiro’s broad, bare chest radiating sheer lively warmth. 

“You didn’t get up though. Sorry. I tried to be quiet,” Shiro says, patting Keith’s head: prosthetic fingers sliding through dark, knotted strands. 

“’s okay.” Keith nuzzles Shiro’s cheek, huffs a quiet laugh when Shiro makes them sway: like slow dancing in the bathroom to inaudible music is nothing new. “I should stop letting myself be roped into Pidge’s gaming tournaments though,” Keith huffs. Rubs his palms against Shiro’s back, runs his fingers through his many, many scars. 

“It makes you happy,” Shiro says, withdraws to kiss his forehead. Keith wrinkles his nose, nearly reaches for another hug because he’s always cold and Shiro never is. 

“Yeah, well.” 

“I made you coffee, sweetheart,” Shiro says gently, his arm sliding around Keith’s shoulders. Keith hums, lets himself be lead. Their steps fall side by side like always: there had been a time when Keith had trailed after Shiro, always trying to reach him anyway he could. But that time is past. Now Keith can let himself be touched freely, can reach out to touch Shiro right back. Can kiss the smile from his face and swallow his laughter and nearly spill his damn coffee all over himself because not even months together can take away the joy of seeing Shiro’s genuine laughter: the one that is bright and wide and a little crooked and makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in the most adorable way. 

“We still good for the dinner on Christmas Day?” Keith asks after he has gotten his voice and his coffee in order. He sips on it and watches as Shiro still refuses to put on a shirt, watches as Shiro spreads a little too much strawberry jam on his toast. Watches as Shiro’s face remains open, alive. No longer shadowed, pressured by things long gone; those things vanishing into the place where nightmares come from, to be forgotten with the dawn and the warmth of another body. 

“Yeah. Allura’s been on our case long enough about it,” Shiro murmurs. His toast crunches deliciously as he bites into it. 

“That’s disgusting,” Keith says as a speck of jam is stuck on Shiro’s lips. But Keith is smiling, has to let out a snort when Shiro tries to lick it away. “Oh, come on now-” Keith huffs and wipes away the speck with a thumb, letting out a soft, startled giggle when Shiro manages to grab his thumb between his teeth. 

“Disgusting? Maybe. But good? Hell yes,” Shiro says after pressing a kiss to Keith’s fingertip. Keith shakes his head but can’t keep the fondness out of his gaze. 

“I got you something nice as a Christmas gift,” he says then and finally goes to sit down by the kitchen table. Shiro’s eyebrow raises from the other side. 

“As it stands, I may have something for you as well,” Shiro says but his cheeks are tinted pink. He always seems a little bashful when people spend money on him: no matter that it’s Keith and they have been together for months now. Keith figures it’s his job to dote on such a nice, caring boyfriend anway. Especially when he knows that Shiro would bring down the stars if Keith even thought of it. 

“I also thought we could.. go have a day for ourselves,” Keith says then, slowly, a little hesitant. He steals a piece of Shiro’s toast. Shiro’s eyebrow is still raised as he goes to put another pair to the toaster. “Maybe go where we had our first date,” Keith continues, idly spreading a very thin layer of jam on his bread. He meets Shiro’s gaze. Shiro is grinning. Keith flushes. 

“Stop it,” he says. 

“Nope,” Shiro says and gets up, leans over the table. Keith leans forward to meet him halfway, to get a kiss, to get a murmured ‘sweetheart’ and to see how bright Shiro’s eyes had gotten. 


End file.
